I try to follow
by aloverofthelight
Summary: Just a collection of one-shots and drabbles. Some are fluff, angst, and so on.
1. Deliver Me

**A/N - **I posted this as a seperate story before but I think it's better here. tw: depression and mentions of suicide.

* * *

_and the arms of the ocean are carrying me_

The pain comes at night. It surrounds Éponine. Ebbing and flowing around her. She lets it consume her. She spends her nights staring out the window, watching the darkness engulf the city. Her mind rushes with thoughts of _why_ and _can't _and _please_. _Why? I can't do it anymore. Please, stop. _They stay with her, brimming around her till sleep finally comes.

Enjolras tries to reach out and help her. He says something to her one night, hoping to reach her, wherever she is. But she's lost, floating away in a sea of nothingness. When she finally falls asleep, he tucks in her bed, holding on to the girl who is lost at sea.

_and all this devotion was rushing over me_

She creates a shield during the day, made with layers of smiles, sarcasm, and jokes. She perfects it. She's learned to keep the waves small. When they swell, she plasters a smile on her face. Under the surface, the roar and rage, desperately pushing against the dam she's created. They can't see the struggle within, she thinks. No one notices.

But he notices. He can see it in her eyes. The subtle changes in her movements. The way her fingers dig into her arm. He sees it all. He wants to pull the shield away. Let me help you, he thinks. Let me be the anchor that keeps you weighted.

_in the crushes of heaven, for a sinner like me_

He wants her to talk to him, to somebody. He wants to understand. She closes up, allowing herself to drift away. His voice becomes distant as her thoughts crash around her. **Talk to him**, a voice thunders, **this is your chance**. It repeats over and over. But it's the small voice that triumphs. _Don't. You're all alone._ It whispers. It's deafening.

He watches her sail away. His words become helpless, pleading. He grabs her hands, willing her back to him. He tries to be that lighthouse, tries to guide her back home. But she's too far out. The light doesn't reach her.

_but the arms of the ocean deliver me_

She's alone again, if only for a bit. The thoughts trickle in. _No,_ she thinks_, not now_. But they continue to flow, flooding her mind. She tries treading water, but they crash around her. They pull her down, deeper than she's ever been. They devour her. She can't take it. She wants it to stop. Needs it stop.

He's scared. Terrified. She sits in the bathtub, arms curled around her, sobs racking her body. He holds her. He tries to comprehend the scene. A half empty pill bottle. The scalding shower. The vomit. The tears. He grips tighter, refusing to let her go. Refusing to let her wash away. "I'm here," he whispers. "I won't let you go." He won't let her sink.

_never let me go, never let me go_


	2. follow you down to the old oak tree

"_Names get carved in the old oak tree of the ones who stay and the ones who leave. I will wait for you there with these cindered bones. So follow me, follow me down._"

* * *

There is an old oak tree beside the stream. It's old and barren with bare and broken limbs. It looks forlornly over the pasture, sadly waiting in the wind. The beauty in it's sadness is the past it holds and the memories it shares. Each branch whispers a story, every leaf a moment in time. If one looks hard enough, the past becomes an open book.

* * *

-**1932**-

A boy and girl meet at the old oak tree. He is Enjolras, nine years old and fresh from Paris. She is Éponine, seven years old from a farm down the way. She pokes fun at his fancy clothes and city accent. He questions her missing shoes and dirt smeared face. Despite their differences, they become fast friends. In the shade of the tree they skip rocks and dream of running away. He wants to be a knight - to fight evil, save people, and be the good in the world. She wants to be the princess of a far away land where nothing bad happens and every one is happy. The old oak tree becomes their safe haven. They meet every day, making wishes on dandelions and finding shapes in clouds.

-**1936**-

Enjolras is thirteen, Éponine is eleven. The old oak tree shelters them on the warm summer days. As the sun sets, they share their first kiss (just to say the did it). It's short and a bit sloppy, but it's perfect for them. They rest against the tree trunk, the sound of chirping crickets and the flowing stream music to their ears. They murmur their dreams to each other. He thinks he'll be a writer, learning how others see the world and writing what they've seen. She wants to be the next Claudette Colbert. She could slip into someone else's skin and be loved by people around the world. They share their aspiration in the cool breeze as the quiet rustle of leaves whisper words of hope.

-**1939**-

He is sixteen, she is fourteen. In this mess of a world, he holds her tightly under the safety of the branches. It surrounds them, leaving them in their own world. They dream of making a home far away from these new events, in some quiet country side. He would learn to farm, while writing on the side. She would paint - capture the beauty in simplicity. As planes fly overhead, they cling to the dreams, believing that saying it out loud makes it real.

-**1941**-

Enjolras is eighteen, Éponine is sixteen. They whisper words of love under the old oak tree. He carves their names into the trunk, promising a forever for them. She curls into him, lacing fingers with his. They cherish these small moments together, knowing he leaves for the front line in a matter of days. He swears he will write everyday, promising they will runaway together when she is eighteen. He talks of the places they will travel to and the things they will do together. She clings to his words, desperate to believe the dream. "I _will_ wait for you," he murmurs into her hair, pressing delicate kisses to her forehead.

-**1942**-

Éponine is seventeen. She reads his letters under the tree. He writes of the things he's seen and done, how he plans to change the world and this war. He's no longer a dreamer, hardened by the realities of war. His words speak of change and his plans with his battalion. At the end of each letter he still promises to return to her, because he is still hers, no matter what. They do little to comfort her, she still feels him slipping through her fingers. She leaves his letters among the clutter of dead leaves.

The letters become scarce, eventually vanishing completely. Éponine seeks solace in the old oak tree. Its barren limbs try to comfort her. The wind now howls through the branches, cold biting through the bark. She traces their names with numb fingers. Deep down, she knows she should move on, but she still grasps at hazy dreams and distant words. They give her hope. As the cold whips through her, she whispers, "I will wait for you."

-**1943**-

Éponine is eighteen. The winter is hard, snow still falling heavy to the ground and the wind still tearing through the countryside.

She still believes. In the dead of night, she packs her bag. She brings her warmest clothes, her holey shoes, and her thin blanket. She slips silently into the darkness, pushing through heavy snow to their tree. She wraps the blanket around her and hugs the tree, waiting silently. Night bleeds into day, the day back into night. She waits with blue fingers and chattering teeth. The night closes in around her. 'He'll come,' she thinks, 'He promised.' It's hard to keep her eyes open.

She only closes her eyes for what feels like a few minutes. When she opens them, he's there. His face is bright and smiling, that smile she's cherished over the years. There is no uniform, no wounds, no pain. She no longer feels cold or alone, as he lit up the world for her. He extended his hand toward her. "Follow me?" His flows through her like wind. "Forever," she replies.


	3. As constant as a Star

**A/N:** This was a swan lake prompt I received on tumblr. I hope you guys like it. (I realize it may be a bit out of character, but I did my best.)

* * *

_the dawn will bring the sunrise_

* * *

There was a prince of a far off land who dreamed of being anything _but_ a prince.

He was a strong willed prince, who unlike others in the court, believed in equality and in the people. Prince Enjolras would dress as a commoner and work with them, infuriating his father. His mother chose to remain oblivious and focused on showering him in expensive gifts and throwing lavish parties.

His birthday party was no different. She had planned a three day event, inviting princesses and duchesses from around the country, in hopes of finding him a bride. Instead of joining the festivities, Enjolras sulked by the door, hoping for an escape which came to him in the form of his closest friend, Combeferre. "Are you bored at your own party?" he inquired, the slightest smile playing at his lips. "I find it pointless is all." The pair stood against the wall watching girls float by with fluttering lashes and simpering smiles. Enjolras simply rolled his eyes. Combeferre leaned in, whispering "Courfeyrac and Grantaire are leaving for hunt, care to join?" Enjolras nodded and the two quietly slipped away in the cover of twirling skirts.

* * *

The prince felt more like himself with his friends. They shared the same ideals and had always worked well together, despite their clashing personalities. The small group ventured into the woods, bows in hands, as the sun set. Game had been scarce as they hiked through the dense forest. Grantaire, the best marksmen of the four, had managed to find and shoot one pheasant and one possum, unusual for him. Courfeyrac had shot unsuccessfully at a deer, Combeferre merely watched, and Enjolras' head was somewhere else. Deep in thought, he wandered away from the group. In his foolishness, he had gotten lost. The moon now rose over the trees and lit the night sky. He blindly followed the twists and turns of trees, finally stumbling upon a small clearing engulfed by a lake.

On this lake were several swans drifting about, heads tucked under wings. He was mesmerized by their beauty and sadness that radiated off them. The moon peaked through the branches, casting beams of light onto the lake. One swan floated into the light, and to Enjolras' amazement, began to change. The water rippled around the swan, light glittering around it, fading away to reveal a beautiful woman. She stood tall, clad in a shimmering silver gown with long hair spilling over her shoulders. Like the swan before, she was elegant, and when she spoke it was soft like flowing water. "I am the Swan Queen, Éponine." She glided out of the lake, head held high. Her gaze was unwavering, refusing to look away. Enjolras was surprised. All the women he knew looked away at any eye contact he gave them. They tittered with laughter and covered their faces. "And I am Prince Enjolras, but please call me Enjolras." He gave a small bow. "May I ask, how did this happen to you?" She smiled lightly and stepped closer. "I was next in line to be queen but a sorcerer, disguised as my adviser, selfishly wanted the crown to himself and cast a spell to turn me into a swan as well as several ladies of my court. The curse could only be broken if a man pure of heart pledged his love." She looked into the sky, eyes shining in the moonlight. "Is that not always the way?" Enjolras also looked into the sky, watching thousands of stars glitter like diamonds. He could help her, he thought, perhaps they shared the same beliefs. He began to speak, ready to pledge himself, when the ground began to shake. Wind tore through the trees, and in a whirlwind of leaves and dirt, a man appeared. With a wicked smile, he grabbed Éponine and vanished with a swirl of his cloak, leaving Enjolras alone and disorientated. In the distance, voices called out his name, and he tried to stumble towards them.

* * *

The following night was the second ball for his birthday. His mother had made sure he sat next to her and presented with several possible brides. He would politely bow and kiss their hands, but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the Swan Queen. Had he only dreamed of her? And if she was real, where was she now? Deep in thought, he had not realized a new girl now stood in front of him. "Your highness, may I introduce my daughter." The cloaked man behind her said quietly. Enjolras was astonished. It was her, Éponine. Her silver gown was replaced with a black one, her hair tied into an intricate bun. There was a glint in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. He found himself once again, mesmerized. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, offering a hand. She nodded, and the two stepped onto the dance floor. They twirled around, he talked and Éponine nodded. Enjolras was unaware that the Éponine he danced with was an imposter. The sorcerer had cloaked himself and disguised his daughter as the Swan Queen. The real Éponine watched from the windows as Enjolras held the imposter close. "Éponine," he whispered in her ear, "I think this is the perfect time, if you'll allow it, to pledge my heart to you." The scene changed instantly. Smoke curled around the imposter, billowing into clouds around the ballroom. The room shook and screams erupted around them. The sorcerer laughed evilly as the Éponine he danced with transformed into her true self. Enjolras, realizing what he done, backed away. He tore out of the castle and into the woods, searching for the clearing.

When he had finally discovered the lake, he found Éponine encircled by several swans. "Éponine!" he called out. "Éponine, I'm terribly sorry. If I had only known-" he tried to explain. Éponine simply held up a hand. "It's quite alright. Evil has many faces." She stepped lightly towards him and bowed her head lightly. "I forgive you." He took her hand, kissing it lightly. Again, the ground shook and the wind blew, the sorcerer appearing before them. "You have already promised yourself to my daughter, _your highness._" the sorcerer sneered. "And your kingdom as well, you must keep your word." The prince lunged at him, but without a weapon he was useless against the magic of the sorcerer. He looked at Éponine and back to the sorcerer, sure of what must be done. He retreated, grabbing Éponine's hand. "I would rather die than give up the kingdom and marry your daughter." He swiftly kissed Éponine, wrapping his arms her. She returned the kiss, holding tightly on to him, knowing what would happen next. Together, they jumped into the lake, never letting go of one another. In a swirl of light and water, the spell broke, and the other swans transformed into girls. The girls advanced towards the sorcerer, pushing him closer to the lake, forcing him in. As he drowned, Éponine and Enjolras ascended above the lake, taking their place in the stars forever.


End file.
